


This fire won't go out (though just a flicker it may be)

by AlannasTara



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Could Be Canon, Female Friendship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, about her and her isolation, and i needed her to be loved and cared for, because I had a lot of feelings, just the 37 Lori Grimes feelings I had to write down, on the road, season 2/3 interlude, so this is that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-18 06:14:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8151893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlannasTara/pseuds/AlannasTara
Summary: "She missed a lot of things: the feel of Rick’s arms around her as they slept, the sense of safety and security that came with that touch, the everyday little touches that they used to share -"





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you @stephtron312 for beta-ing this for me, and for your invaluable input! So much love, girl! 
> 
> This is what happens when I see a Lori .gifset on tumblr and go on a tag rant that ends with me having 37 Lori feelings I had to write.
> 
> Title is from "We Carry On" by The Phantoms feat. Amy Stroup

“Forty-seven stitches.” 

 

“Are you serious?” 

 

“She had a  _ big head. _ ”

 

The two women looked at each other, eyes wide for a moment before bursting into hushed giggles, as they reminisced about their previous childbirths. 

 

Lori had been anxious about discussing the baby with Carol, not wanting to dredge up memories that might be painful since the loss of Sophia. But Carol had brushed it off, telling her that focusing on the new life to come, and the child they were already caring for, helped her to cope with the hole in her life now. That it brought back  _ good _ memories. That it helped to remember Sophia as she was  _ before.  _

 

That had been the conversation that eased them into their stories of Carl and Sophia's births, and how Carl was caesarian, and how apparently, Sophia was a huge baby. That Ed hadn't wanted to take Carol to regular doctor appointments because “ _ Women been havin’ babies since the Stone Age and I ain't paying no blood-sucking, money hungry college boy to tell you what you already know to do.”  _ They hadn't discovered until after the fact, that Carol had gestational diabetes, and Sophia had been larger than usual as a result. 

 

“He was two weeks early, and Rick was on duty - he worked nights then - so my neighbor Janet drove me to the hospital. I was already in surgery before Rick made it to the hospital.” 

 

Lori’s eyes misted over as she ruffled her fingers through a sleeping Carl’s dirty, tangled hair, gently working out some of the knots as they caught on her fingertips.  

 

“I'll never forget hearing his first cry. It was the most precious sound I'd ever heard.” 

 

Carol reached across the sleeping bag on the dirty, hay-strewn barn floor they were camped out on, over the head of Carl, who was sandwiched protectively between the two of them, and gripped Lori’s hand, squeezing it briefly, holding it for a moment before releasing her. 

 

The gesture moved Lori beyond words, and the tears, that had until now been kept at bay, spilled over her cheeks, shining in the small beams of moonlight that filtered in the cracks of the barn, marking lightened trails in the grit and dust that caked their skin almost constantly nowadays. She wiped at them silently, smearing the dirt on her face with her sleeve. 

 

Lori restrained herself from squeezing Carl into her arms, wanting to remind herself of the good she still had in this world, but not wanting to wake the exhausted boy from his restless sleep. It wasn't often they had a shelter of this kind to stretch out and sleep in; mostly they camped in the cars so they could be ready to leave at a moment’s notice.

 

As much as she enjoyed stretching her ever aching back muscles and being able to straighten out her legs, she missed the warmth and closeness of the group when they stayed in the vehicles. She missed having Carl curled up against her side, sleep being the only time he seemed to allow himself to accept her proximity without a glare or snarl. The only thing she didn’t miss was the overwhelming smell of sweat, blood, unwashed bodies, and dirty clothes all mixed together in the closed in space. That was tough to handle. 

 

She missed a lot of things: the feel of Rick’s arms around her as they slept, the sense of safety and security that came with that touch, the everyday little touches that they used to share - holding hands, caressing one another's cheek or forehead, the soft peck on the lips she'd give him before he left, the gentleness of his arm thrown around her shoulders, pulling her into his side.

 

She was so lonely. Yes, she had Carol, and thank God for that, because without another woman her age with similar life experiences to talk to, she was afraid she wouldn't have to wait for a walker or childbirth to kill her, she'd die from from sheer insanity. From having to keep everything bottled up inside and never getting that reassurance or validation from another person, one who made sure to let her know that she  _ understood. _

 

But for as much as she depended on her right now, Carol was no replacement for her husband. Lori didn't want to weigh Carol down with  _ all _ of her own burdens, and so, she simply suffered in silence. Kept the proverbial stiff upper lip, and trudged on, making sure she didn’t complain too much, and trying her best, here and there, to make inroads into the icy wasteland that existed between her husband and herself. Cold to the bone, and not just literally, she lay on the frozen, dirty floor, and tried to sleep, hoping the nightmares stayed away. Praying the dreams she had of a blood splattered floor and a tiny, silent child were nothing but her subconscious working through her anxiety. 

  
  
  


The next day dawned overcast and cold, a chilly mist hovering over the earth as they stood on weary legs and discussed what to do. It never changed. Daily they made plans to go here or stop there, scavenge this place or that place. Daily those plans went to shit thanks to the living dead walking among them. They were clustering together in larger herds, blocking off whole towns and highways, making it more and more difficult for the group to find food, water, or anything else, really. 

 

If it weren’t for the kills Daryl was able to make, they’d have starved to death long before now. As it was, they were wasting away, and Lori could tell that some in their group were doing without to ensure Carl and she had enough nutrition, and while she felt guilty for herself, she wouldn’t feel guilty for making sure Carl didn’t go hungry. It seemed like she and Carol had partnered together to make sure he was safe, warm, and fed. 

 

Today, Rick and Daryl decided they were going to circle back around try a town near where the Grimes’ had lived. T and Glenn were going to join them, and it was decided the rest of them would stay behind at the barn, in case the town was overrun, and so they could conserve gasoline. 

She was busy helping Carol gather up the laundry and try to clean some of it, and air out the bedding while the others were gone. As she went to gather up the bags of clothes a rough and calloused hand reached in to take it from her. 

 

“I got it. Where you headin’ with it?” Daryl asked, hefting one of the bags over his shoulder. 

 

“Just over there by that tree, the one with the low hanging branches.” Lori motioned to the site, and Daryl followed her to the spot where she was going to hang up the blankets. 

 

He shrugged the load down, plopping it up against the tree, and turned to face her, gripping the strap of his crossbow as he adjusted it to lay more flat against his back. 

 

“Uh, wanted to check and see, um, there anything you’re needing for you and the baby?” He rushed the question out, like he was having a hard time figuring out just how to say it. “Vitamins or some shit like that? Or somethin’ else you might be wantin’?”

 

Lori was kind of shocked that he was stopping to ask her personally if she wanted anything, but the fact that he was warmed her insides, and she choked up a little at the sudden wave of emotion that flooded her. 

 

“Glenn already got me some vitamins back at the farm, but if you see any more I guess it wouldn’t hurt to have more in case we can’t find any later. Um, even a bottle of Flintstones’ vitamins would work. Then I could share with Carl. Doesn’t have to be prenatal, is what I mean.” She shrugged, racking her spotty memory, her mind having just blanked when she was asked if she wanted something.  Her stomach chose that moment to growl, and she looked up at Daryl, cheeks reddening, as she added, “I would love some peanut butter. If you can find any?” 

 

He nodded, opening his vest up to pull a thin, cylinder-shaped bag of sunflower seeds. 

 

“Found these at the last place we swept. Was gonna give ‘em to Carl, but here, split ‘em with him. They got some protein for ya; it’ll hold ya over. I’ll go huntin’ later on this evenin’ towards dusk. Might find a deer or somethin’.” 

 

She took the bag of sunflower seeds, and wiped the corner of her eye with her shoulder, dabbing at the salty tears threatening to run. 

 

“Thanks, Daryl.” 

 

“Ain’t nothin’.” He shrugged and glanced around. “Gotta get goin’. You seen Carol?” He asked, turning towards the vehicles.

 

“She’s just rounding up Beth and Carl to help us, I think.” 

 

He nodded, and strode away, not saying another word, as befitted his gruff manner. 

  
  


The group that went on the run returned later that evening, the back of the Hyundai loaded down with different supplies. The doors opened and the group surrounded the car, clamoring to see what had been brought back. Rick opened the hatch and pulled out a bag that had a bunch of ready-to-eat breakfast foods. She could see the box of brown sugar toaster pastries just over the edge of the bag. Carl let out a whoop at seeing the treat. 

 

Daryl pulled out the next bag that had a bunch of blankets in it, the cheap, scratchy kind that those pay-by-the-hour motels used between the bedspread and the sheets. They were a dingy tan color, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and if they kept warm, she’d use it without a single complaint. She passed the bag to Carol, who handed it to Beth and told her to go hang them up with the rest of the bedding. 

 

The next box caused even T to strain lifting it from the vehicle and he sat it down on the ground by the small cooking fire they had going between the cars. Carol lifted out a couple cans of Beef Stew and Hershel made some loud “MMMmmm”-ing noises that had several of them chuckling. Glenn and Rick unloaded the rest of the supplies into the Suburban where there was more room, and Daryl walked around the vehicle pulling his crossbow and pack from the front seat. 

 

Lori helped Carol get some supper warmed up, and they all sat around, enjoying the feeling of full bellies for once, savoring the warmth of the meal, and the decadence of the vegetables and potatoes they had gone so long without. Even though they were processed and preserved enough that Lori wasn’t sure they still counted as vegetables, she was still salivating over every single spoonful. 

 

Rick walked by on his way to take over watch from Glenn, and somehow managed to set his bowl down next to her, leaving half of his serving for her, without even a glance in her direction. At least she knew he had to have thought about her, in order to do that. Most of the time, it was like she simply didn’t exist. 

 

She wiped at the tears forming in her eyes again.  _ Damn hormones,  _ she thought. At T-dog’s questioning glance, she motioned to the fire.

“Just some smoke in my eyes is all,” she explained. She would be damned before she’d have people pitying her. 

 

Carl hunkered by the fire, chatting with Beth and Hershel, and Carol was starting to clean up the dishes, and even though she was surrounded by people, Lori felt entirely alone. It was an empty, desolate, hopeless feeling. She put her hand over her stomach, feeling the slight rounding that was just beginning to show. It was the one happy place in her mind that she would go. 

 

She would close her eyes, with her hand on her belly, and feeling the light fluttering of this baby’s kicks and rolls, and she would imagine the world hadn’t ended. She was at home in her backyard, enjoying the fall weather, waiting for Rick to come home from work. They would sit and talk about baby names. He would rub his hand over her baby belly, kissing her shoulder and her neck and whispering into her ear how much he loved her, and how beautiful she was carrying their child. 

 

Nevermind, the fact that had never actually happened, much less would it happen now. She opened her eyes, gazing at the fire, feeling the heat and flame warm her feet, hands, and cheeks. Most days, that was the only warmth she would get. 

 

Once camp was cleaned up and everything was put away and they moved inside the barn, Beth passed out the sleeping bags and “new” blankets she’d pulled off the tree branches. The odor had certainly improved with the thorough airing out they’d received, and she and Carol made up their pallet with Carl once again taking the space between the two of them. 

 

As they were settling down, clothing being adjusted, blankets rustling, and whispers filtering through the stillness, there was a little breeze and a muffled plop as someone sat on the ground next to her. 

 

“Here,” Daryl said, passing her a bag he’d pulled from his pack. 

 

She sat back up and opened it up, pulling out an economy sized jar of peanut butter. She couldn’t help but giggle, and looked over at him, joy lighting her face. “Thank you, Daryl!” She whispered, but she was still pretty loud, and he looked over his shoulder, making sure no one was staring at them. 

 

“There’s more,” he said, pointing to the bag, and then without a word, he was up and moving over to Carol’s side, whispering and pulling out another smaller bag that he smuggled under Carol’s side of the blanket, before plopping down his sleeping bag at her back. 

 

Lori dug deeper and pulled out the bottle of Flintstones’ she mentioned to him, a couple more tubes of sunflower seeds, some thick fuzzy socks,  a large bottle of antacids (she might be in love with him just for that - her heartburn was godawful), and a large jar of cocoa butter. She snorted at the picture of the pregnant lady on the front and the promise to eliminate stretch marks. At least he was trying, she thought as she laughed to herself. It was a very sweet, thoughtful thing to do. 

 

She looked over towards where he was laying, with his back to Carol, but close enough that he could toss his blanket somewhat over her to help keep her warm, and she caught Carol looking up at her. They smiled at each other, acknowledgement written in their gaze, both thinking just how much of a smushball (as Beth would say) that Daryl was underneath all his bluster. She had misjudged him from the start. 

 

She closed the bag back up, and stuffed it into her pack that she used as a pillow, before scooting down under the blanket. She felt Carol’s hand grasping for her own across the top of  the sleeping bag, and they clasped their fingers together, squeezing, and finally letting their hands rest, linked together above Carl’s head. 

 

Tonight, she didn’t feel as cold, she didn’t feel as alone. 

 

That was something. 


End file.
